


The Dark Lord and the False Heart

by Natsumiya-P (Natsumiya_Teirin), Natsumiya_Teirin



Series: Harry Potter and the Many Musical Universes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Vocaloid
Genre: Artificial hearts, Based on a Vocaloid Song, Gen, Harry's a robot, Sad, Science, Tom dies, tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:10:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natsumiya_Teirin/pseuds/Natsumiya-P, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natsumiya_Teirin/pseuds/Natsumiya_Teirin
Summary: "The first miracle was your birth. The second miracle was our time together. The third miracle was...the third miracle was not needed.""A message has been received. The source is...from the future."Once there was a lonely scientist who created a robot. It was nothing short of miraculous, and yet, that robot was missing one very important thing..."Professor, what is a "heart"?"





	The Dark Lord and the False Heart

"Now, open your eyes."

  
Electric green eyes slowly open, taking in the dim lighting of the laboratory, and the figure before him illuminated only by a computer screen.

"Good morning," his creator says.

"Good morning," he parrots.

"Are you functioning properly?"

His mechanical body whirs softly.  
"All systems are functioning properly."

His creator moves his head around, checking for something.

"....You need a name," he says, then continues in a louder voice, "I'll name you..."

* * *

It has been 133 days, 5 hours, 7 minutes, and 17 seconds since he'd woken up. It was currently 14:00 (2:00PM standard time).   
The robot enters the lab again, and sees his creator with a sheaf of what looks to be sheet music.

"Good afternoon Harry. You're right on time, as always."

"Good afternoon Professor Tom."

Professor Riddle- "Professor Tom", as he preferred to be called, had asked him to come to his lab at 2PM every day, and every day, they would do something that, to Harry, had no practical purpose. Once, he'd entered only for Professor Tom to lead him outside to look at the cherry trees in the back yard. Another time, Professor Tom told him a story that, in the end, made the human cry.

Professor Tom had said these activities were meant to create a "heart". But what was a "heart"? What made a "heart" so important? Why did Professor Tom want him to have a "heart"?

He had asked, once. The Professor had told him a "heart" was "a special program".   
He wanted Harry to have this, but Harry didn’t understand why. All he understood was that maybe these strange and seemingly unproductive activities would help create one.

And today, Professor Tom wanted him to sing.

So he sang, and his voice was beautiful- because Tom had created him and he would accept nothing less than perfection- but it lacked the emotion necessary for the piece. After a few tries at this, Tom sent him away and returned to his work.

He heard his creator cough heavily, and made a note to call a medical specialist. Those coughing fits had been happening increasingly often.

* * *

It had been 365 days, 5 hours, 20 minutes, and 55 seconds since his creation.   
He was in the lab, and Professor Tom was smiling, but it looked somehow inaccurate.

There was a cake decorated with candles, and streamers hung overhead. Professor Tom had said that humans did this- held these parties- to celebrate holidays- specifically, to celebrate one more full year of being alive. He said this party was for him.

Harry opened his mouth to ask why- why celebrate such a thing for a being who had never really been alive?- when he felt the familiar tingling of an incoming message.

"Message received. The source is...from the future."

He wasn’t sure what happened after that- his auditory and visual receptors had temporarily short-circuited- but when his systems were back online, Professor Tom was crying even though his smile looked more solid, and he had wrapped his arms around him in what Harry had come to know as an embrace. He didn’t understand.

"Professor, why are you crying?"

Before he could answer, the Professor fell into another coughing fit. This one made his body tremble, and Harry was pretty sure something came out, but with the Professor's head on his shoulder, he couldn’t see what it was.

Finally, Professor Tom was able to speak, even if what he said next was raspy and hoarse.

"Harry...Harry, call...call the doctor, Harry...I can't...I can't die...not now...not while...not while my work is..."

He stopped speaking, and his weight grew heavier.

Harry laid him down on the small cot in the lab, and then went to the kitchen to grab the telephone. As he placed the call, he returned to Professor Tom's side and remained there until the paramedics arrived to collect him.   
The paramedics said only family could go with Professor Tom to the hospital. Harry was not related to Professor Tom- not biologically- and he was not his spouse or romantic partner, so he stayed behind. He did not hear of his Professor for several weeks, and when he finally did, he was told his systems had shut down. 

 Throughout all of this, the computer monitor remained brightly lit.

* * *

It had been 300 years, 4 months, 20 days, 5 hours, and 7 seconds since his creation.

Professor Tom was certainly dead now, if he hadn’t died while in the hospital that day. And somehow, even without anyone to maintain him, Harry had survived.

He had survived, but the lab was in a sorry state. Wires were frayed here and there, along with a few dead rats. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust despite his best efforts to clean, and the cot had fallen into disrepair. All that remained was the barely functioning computer and the cherry tree in the backyard.

The cherry tree Harry was currently standing beneath. 

Professor Tom had said once that the tree was believed to house a certain deity. Long ago, legends said that if you made a wish beneath it while the cherry blossoms fell, that deity would appear to grant it. 

It was winter now, and the blossoms had fallen that spring, but Harry always came to wish beneath it, so great had his desire to understand become. 

"I wish I knew who Professor Tom really was. I wish I knew what he'd worked so hard to make for me was. I want to know what it means to have a heart." 

Still, nothing happened. No mythical being appeared to grant his wish. However, a certain memory replayed itself in his visual receptors. 

_"This file contains a very special program. I'm going to give it to you one day, but it's not finished yet, so until that day, you must never touch it. It could potentially damage your systems so badly, I'd never be able to fix it."_

But Professor Tom would never be able to fix him if that happened now. Not from 6 feet below the ground. 

Even Harry would fall into disrepair eventually. And when that time came, there probably wouldn’t be anyone left with even the potential ability to fix him. 

Realizing now he wouldn’t have anything to lose, Harry returned to the lab. It was dark, as no one had been able to pay the electricity bill. The only source of lighting was the dimly lit computer screen, kept running by an alternative power source. 

Harry went up to it and searched through the various files, until finally, he came to the one he wanted. The file labeled "ココロ.zip". 

Wasting no time, Harry unhooked a tiny panel behind his ear and pulled out the USB cable Professor Tom had used to install new programs. He plugged it into the port on the side of the monitor, and watched as a list of the files he already had installed popped up.   
He right-clicked on "ココロ.zip", and selected "extract to", then selected his own folder of files as the destination. 

The extraction process didn’t take very long, but as soon as it finished, Harry found himself having trouble standing straight.   
He braced himself against the chipped and half-rotted desk, and peered into the newest folder. He selected the one labeled "kokoro.exe".

_This file could potentially modify your software. Do you want to install it?_

He clicked "yes". 

Almost instantly, he heard a dull thumping sound, and it took a minute to realize it was coming from himself. 

Memories replayed across his vision. 

_Professor Tom returning home with bags full of new clothes he'd bought just for him._

_Professor Tom attempting to 'teach' him how to ride a bike before realizing he already knew._

_Professor Tom reciting poetry while looking at the cherry blossoms._

He felt his lips turn upwards, and realized the warmth in his chest was "happiness".

  
_Professor Tom was crying as he told the story of his parents- of his mother's death and his father's abandonment._

_Professor Tom's body as it was wheeled into the ambulance._

_The paramedic explaining that he couldn’t go with them because he was not Professor Tom's spouse or biological relative._

When had he fallen to his knees? It didn’t matter. His hands were trembling, and his eyes stung from the tears that'd come forth. His newfound heart was pumping faster now, and his breathing was shaky. 

This was "sorrow". 

_Professor Tom's smiling face as he answered a question._

_Professor Tom's frown as he grew frustrated with a certain project._

_Professor Tom's angry face as an ignorant client tried to buy Harry from him._

_This feeling that made him neither cry nor smile..._

Suddenly, all he wanted was to be able to thank his creator- his father- for everything he'd done. For all the work and effort he'd put in so Harry could have this. But now...now he never could. Because Professor Tom was dead, and he was all alone. 

Harry stood up on shaky legs and lugged himself up to the main part of the house.

Everything seemed bigger and more spacious. The house was suddenly emptier than it ever was before, and Harry suddenly understood why he was created. Why he was woken up and cared for even though he didn’t have a heart. 

The empty feeling of loneliness was _painful_. 

He went into Professor Tom's bedroom and knelt beside what used to be a bed, but was now just a half-rotted bedframe sitting on a pile of dust. 

Part of the roof had caved in, leaving a sort of skyline. 

Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against the edge of the bedframe. 

If Professor Tom were still here...he'd probably appreciate the view. He always did enjoy natural sciences...

* * *

> _"It truly was a miracle. The robot had finally gained that special program- that "heart"- he'd so longed for._   
>  _But the program was too much for him, just as his creator had predicted, and that moment of emotion was exactly as it seemed._   
>  _Unable to withstand the weight, the robot's system short-circuited, never to move again. But his last seconds were full of smiles._   
>  _He really did look like an angel..."_

 


End file.
